


Gifted Sight, Blind Might

by Sayane5ama



Category: Gakuen Alice, alice academy
Genre: "Chosen One" plot, Additional Tags will be in the notes in future chapters, Alices, Blind MC, F/M, Other, Spy work, Superpowers, mature themes, seriously AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-21
Updated: 2015-06-26
Packaged: 2018-04-05 10:45:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4176927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sayane5ama/pseuds/Sayane5ama
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Celina Vanguardis isn't crazy - she can just See the future.  It's a special power she was born with known as an "Alice."  There are all kinds of Alices - and almost all of them can be exploited.  The Z Corporation is a collection of such people with such a goal in mind, exploiting these special powers for - what else - total world domination.  And the Alice Organization, the group Celina becomes a party of, is their enemies, secret to almost all of the world even as they protect Alices and normal people alike from Z's dangerous greed.<br/>But Celina is pretty special, beyond being able to See the future and being blind.  She just doesn't know how yet.  It must have something to do with Natsume Hyuuga, the mysterious and incredibly secretive agent of Alice who Celina cannot seem to escape even if she tried - and who cannot escape her, despite trying.  And it certainly has something to do with Z as a whole, too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: The characters and concept of the original work do not belong to me, they belong to the author, Higuchi Tachibana. Any original characters in this story such ask the main character, Celina, however, do belong to me - though the concept of superpowers being known as "Alices" does not belong to me. There will be no monetization on this story, at present or in future. This work is an AU fanfiction. All rights belong to the author of the original work and all credit for the basic concept for plot and most characters also belongs to the author.

**Part 1: Recruit**

 

It was supposed to be a very nice evening.

Mom and Dad actually drove that evening, which meant they didn’t want to scare anyone into giving them special treatment. The car was a steel-gray Cadillac from 1997 and kept in perfect, modern conditioning by its owner, Dad always boasted to anyone who bothered to ask.  It had faux-leather seating, like all “luxury” cars do.  Mom sat in the passenger seat, occasionally reaching over and patting Dad’s hand, making her metal pearl bracelet jingle like Christmas bells.  It was as if they were going out to an anniversary dinner, and I was the bag of gifts they were going to exchange, colorfully wrapped and waiting in the backseat so no one could peek.  Or maybe a fish Dad had caught with one of his CEO buddies, dead and lifeless, the perfect best-tasting trophy to hand off to the bidder with the biggest checkbook.  I felt like a fish, cold and clammy and out of my comfort zone.  My parents viewed me as a present, to make peace with whatever potential husband was going to bargain for my wedding finger tonight.

I hadn’t been told much about the man, other than that he was handsome enough and had a fine job.  His name was Ryan Seavorman.  If you ask me, it sounded like a classic corrupt, dirty, nasty-minded politician’s name.  Which was fitting, considering his job was that of the Mayor of Chicago.

I sat in the backseat with my earplugs in.  We’d discovered early on that the sound of the air whooshing by the car and the dozens of hundreds of cars, people, trees, and animals that went by made me very carsick.   _Very_ carsick.  Earplugs were the perfect solution.  I couldn’t hear anything, and I only knew from experience where we were headed.

There was a nice restaurant, kind of like an up-jumped Red Lobster mixed with an Olive Garden, called Fiero’s.  Mom and Dad always took me to the place when I was being shown off for auction.  The food was good, until you coupled it with the prospect of being married to someone you’ve never met and who your parents only like because the person is wealthy. Then everything tasted like ash.

Anyway, I sat in the backseat, earplugs firmly jammed in, my attention turned to the car window because I had this weird inclination just to stare into the space to my right.  But I wasn’t just staring.  That night was a special night.  I just had to suffer through a politician for a few hours, possibly throw a haughty fit to throw him completely off of my scent, and then wait in my room while my parents debated if I should have some sort of punishment and then went to sleep without coming to a firm conclusion.  I’d done it before and listened through the fake fight a dozen times in the past few years. My folks just didn’t understand why I could never be happy with someone who was just after a wealth merger.

When we got to the restaurant, Dad gave the car keys to a valet and kindly helped me out after he helped Mom.  He didn’t really need to help me, but it kept up the charade that I was helpless because of my… problem.  I didn’t see it that way. The only drawback was a lack of color, but I had another way to make up for that.

Dad escorted his ladies inside, one on each arm.  Mom held his right arm because she wanted to.  Dad held my right arm because he wanted to instill a sense of charity in the man I was to meet tonight; that I needed help to even walk into a crowded building with one set of doors other than the kitchen ones. Dad felt the only way I was ever going to get married was if we fooled some poor, rich sap into thinking I was like a puppy: adorable, young, needing to be trained in order to make it in the world.  

I hated it.

“Now, sweetheart,” Dad said in a cheerful but hushed tone, meaning he was threatening to ground me if I didn’t obey what he was going to order me in the next breath, “tonight is a very special night.  This man is a very good match for you. I don’t want to see you sad and alone, darling, so please keep  _yourself_  to yourself tonight.  Alright?”

I nodded; he hip-checked me.  “Yes, Daddy,” I muttered in monotone.   _Even though you very well know I_ can’t  _control it._

Another valet – probably noting my problem – held the door open for us.  Just behind the hostess at her podium was the waiting area, a small square lined on two sides by faux leather seats that Mom said were the color of “stale wine.”  There was a carpet covering the wooden floor that felt like it was older than the restaurant.  Normally, I tried to spend as much time around that carpet as possible, despite what diseases could be living in the pile of fake fur.  It was a sort-of shag carpet, see, and the shaggier the carpet, the more sound it absorbs.  I couldn’t do that today, though.  My “date” was already here.  And he was standing on my carpet.

I could tell that he didn’t quite understand that I was to be his date.  For one, he faced Mom and addressed the “Good evening!  I assume this is your daughter?” to her.  Dad laughed, good-natured fart that he is when his wife gets a compliment, and shook his head.  “No, no, Ryan,” he corrected, pulling me forward a little.  “This is Celina.  The woman you mistook for her is my wife, Victoria.”

“Ah, Victoria!  I apologize – you just look so stunning and youthful.”  Ryan Seavorman, with his politician’s smooth baritone voice and diplomatic turn of phrase, barely concealed how shocked he was at the news.  Then again, nobody ever expects me and my problem to be… well, me.

After kissing my mother’s hand to compliment her beauty, Ryan came over to me.  “Celina!”

I dug my nails into Dad’s bicep.   _That’s my name, you jerk.  Don’t say it like it’s a diseased ferret about to bite your toe off!_  “Yes, that’s me,” I said in as sweet a voice I could muster.  The ruse fell flat already: I couldn’t muster up a smile for the politician any more than I could make my voice sound sweet.  It sounded as sour as canned lemonade.  Ryan gulped audibly and reached his hand out to hook through my other arm, which was Dad’s cue to let go.  “I’m pleased to meet you,” he said in the same tone people use when speaking to a dead person’s relatives: “I’m sorry for your loss.”

Immediately, before he even began speaking, I knew he was a jerk.  The satin coating on the inside of his jacket rustling against his polyester button-up shirt said so.  I’ll bet everything matched in a pleasing, pure-looking color – like white, or black.  After he spoke and took my arm, I decided he wasn’t just a jerk.  Oh, no.  He was a fat pile of horseshit that was only in it for the money.   _Like they all are._  So, naturally, since people naturally don't like being covered by horseshit, I jerked my arm out of his touch and snapped, “Oh, save your lies, politician.  You are as pleased to meet me as-”

“Celina, dear, please!”  Mom put her gentle hand on my shoulder.  If it had been Dad, I would’ve snapped at him, too. But Mom actually tried to understand me, not just slough me off to some poor fop with money to make my existence more bearable.  She was kind, and she understood why I didn’t like these stupid dates.  And she was my friend. Whenever she wasn’t feeling like a newlywed and falling in love with her “soulmate” all over again.  Which was twenty-six hours a day, nine days a week.  There was the occasional day, but...

But she was my Mom.  So I cooled off and let her explain away my temper with the now-usual lie: “I’m sorry, (insert my date’s name here), but Celina is always this upset when she gets hungry.  Shall we?”  And, like the good girl I was, I nodded my agreement and offered my arm again.  Ryan threaded his arm through mine, graciously accepting the lie with some diplomatic phrase to show that he was very thankful to be on a date with me when he was actually either pitiful of my situation or horribly disgusted.

I hate politicians.

The hostess recognized me and my family, calling on the waiter who was my “special helper.”  He showed us to our usual table, letting Ryan pull out my chair and push me in but taking over from there, unfolding my napkin and laying it on my lap.  He also thoroughly described where my place settings would be as I listened to him readjust them on the table, matching his descriptions.  Once the farce was through for the night, the waiter took our drink and appetizer orders, then vanished to leave us in a scarcely-better-than-uncomfortable silence.

I could feel Dad’s disapproval as the silence stretched on for a few minutes.  It deepened as the silence lengthened.  He wanted me to make small talk, to seem interested in this asshole, to attempt to be the little girl he wanted.   _Sorry about that, Daddy dearest,_  I thought with an external sigh.  “So, Ryan,” I began, actually forcing a smile onto my face, as if the prospect of food arriving within minutes actually  _did_  calm me, “Dad told me you are the Mayor of Chicago.  What’s that like?”

The button had been pushed, and I couldn’t un-push it, which was perfectly fine with me.  Ryan Seavorman started to talk about his work-life, how it’s all paperwork and meeting people and keeping track of everything that takes place in Chicago.  He had his good stories, though, and started in on those just as the appetizer of salad arrived.  With a few questions here and there from my family and I, we got Ryan to divulge all the juicy bits of his work for the past two years. He started to relax, and I did, too, actually starting to think he wasn’t all that bad a guy around the time our waiter came to take away our plates and take our entrée orders.  He was just starting this story about how he had to go to a baseball game as a favor to a friend – something that would’ve completely hooked Dad had he been in my position because the man loves his sports – when he utterly destroyed any good feelings I’d been having towards him.  How?

His hand appeared on my knee and started to work its way up to my upper thigh.  Under my dress.  And I wasn’t wearing hose.  The perverted bastard.

I already had Dad’s wrath hanging over my head for the snap earlier, which meant I couldn’t throw a hissy-fit here and now over a random stranger’s hand trying to get into my private bits.  I tried to ignore the calloused hand with the thick sausage fingers and wrinkles that told me he was  _well_ over twenty.  The effort that required started up a tingle in my feet, like they had fallen asleep but more angry and red and fizzy.  I was going numb from how angry I was.  Fantastic.  Well, if he got any farther and actually got into my underwear,  _then_  I would throw a gigantic hissy-fit.  I might even toss water into his face.  Hmm, the idea had possibilities…

The politician kept his hand parked on my upper thigh for a good twenty minutes.  I was beginning to think that he was the actions-speak-louder-than-words flirtatious type.  More importantly, I was wondering how my shrimp scampi was going to taste, because it was the first time I had ordered it and I was curious and it smelled heavenly as it was set down in front of me.  I picked up my fork and, since the description said it had noodles, started twirling some around the tines. And then promptly put it back down, because Seavorman’s hand was now approaching the Netherlands.

Also, I had been going progressively more and more numb as the minutes dragged on.  And now that I was upset, the encroaching numbness sped up, quickly overtaking my arms and neck.  I closed my eyes as it swept over them and, as the numbness took over my whole body, succumbed to the darkness it showed me.

It was darker than normal.  Darker than black, even.  There was no life, no hope, no nothing.  Whenever this happened, this is always what I saw first.  And then colors filled up the darkness, blending and morphing into the shapes of people and objects, showing me images of things that had yet to happen but would come to pass.  My visions were never wrong. They could be avoided, but the fundamental things they showed me – an earthquake happening on a certain day or time, a car crash somewhere, one of the days Dad’s surgical patient wouldn’t make it – they would always happen.  I had come to realize this at a young age.  Everyone doubted me whenever I reported a vision, but I always knew what I Saw.

This time, the colors blossomed like flowers and took on the shapes and sounds of the inside of Fiero’s.  I’d never Seen the inside of the restaurant that was my date spot, but I knew the way it looked.  Wooden rafters, like a Texas Roadhouse, well-to-do people at every booth and table, fine white cloth covering the well-built tables and red faux leather for seat padding.  A high-class restaurant.  Where someone was choking.

In my visions, I hardly ever myself – because, sometimes, I would actually be looking at myself.  That was how I knew what I looked like, seeing myself in my visions.  However, despite not being me, I felt like it, like I was confined to a body and I was merely frozen in shock as I watched all these events play out before me.  Sometimes, that was the case – I saw things from people’s actual perspectives.  But most of the time, the only way I could describe it was that I had become a ghost.  Invisible, yet all-seeing.  It actually described me quite well, if you scratch out the invisible part and overlook the all-seeing without laughing at how horribly ironic that terminology was for me…

This vision was one of the usual ones where I was a ghost.  I stood by, actually not too far away from where I sat, angled so I mainly Saw what I was supposed to See but, out of my periphery, I saw the bright red dress that I had been forced to wear and the frozen look I imagine I had when Ryan Seavorman stuck his fingers down my underwear.  Sure enough, my eyes closed as the vision came on.  And then nothing happened for a solid two minutes.  But I hovered near a booth where a mother, her son, and her friend were eating.  They were chattering about how work was, and about what the mother’s friend should expect because she was quite obviously expecting.  The mother had some steak and, as I watched her chatter away, she didn’t pay attention to the next piece she cut, cut it too big, and proceeded to choke when she ate it.  Her friend chattered on while she couldn’t breathe and it was a good minute or two later when she finally noticed the mother’s failed attempts to gulp in air.  She said a name, presumably the mother’s, and her eyes went round.  She hissed in pain, too, putting a hand to her swollen stomach.  Of course, someone goes into labor when their friend is choking. That is always how things work to everyone other than the people I See.  And, because the son was four or five, he didn’t understand what was going on and just started bawling, which finally attracted someone’s help.  By then, it was too late for the mother and the friend was about to break off part of the table because her labor pains were so strong.  She would need an epidural, and she would need it fast.  Anything to get rid of the pain of both losing her friend and having to push a baby out of her body.

As people started to swarm the table with the bawling child and mother-to-be, my vision cut off, returning me to the darkness that was customary of my life.  I knew I had returned because the darkness was a gray sort of color rather than full dark, and I could feel Ryan Seavorman’s hand up my pants.

Before he could get any farther, I grabbed his arm around the bicep and squeezed tightly, making him yelp instead of shout because that’s how strong I was.  I stared at him straight in the face, even though I couldn’t see it, and growled, “Get your filthy hand out of my underpants, or I swear to God, I won’t tell anyone if I ever See your death.”

Mom and Dad sucked in a breath.  Most likely they were thinking,  _And there goes the cat._   Ryan Seavorman stared at me, very much perplexed, and retracted his hand, holding both up in the classic “I’m innocent” motion.  “I have no idea what you are talking about,” he said smoothly.

I released his arm and shoved him away from me simultaneously, resulting in his having to grab the table in order not to fall out of his chair.  Now that  _that_  nuisance was dealt with, I turned my attention to my parents, completely ignoring the politician at my side.  The fury was rolling off of Dad in waves, and disappointment in the same amount from Mom.  I didn’t care about that, though.  “Mom, there’s a woman behind you to your left, in that booth at the back of this row. She’s with a small boy and a severely pregnant woman.  The non-pregnant woman is going to choke on her steak in about a minute, and the pregnant woman is going to start going into labor.  So you should probably start over there so you can save some lives.”

As usual, Dad ignored my vision report and growled, “Celina, I told you to control yourself tonight.”

_And here comes this argument again,_ I mentally sighed in my exasperation.   _How many times do I have to tell him I can’t control my visions?  What do I have to do?  
_

_Well, maybe he’ll learn after tonight._

“Dad, you very well know I can’t control it.”

“Yes, you can, you just have to reject the vision before it comes on-”

“Dad, sorry, not sorry, but are you the one who gets the visions? No! It is impossible to control them!  And, besides, how many lives have my visions saved now?  Oh, by the way, she’s starting to choke.  Just thought you’d like to know before you start dissing my visions again.”

“Honey, look,” Mom quietly said, putting her hand on Dad’s arm to get his attention before she went over to the woman in question.  Dad turned in his chair, which I knew because it creaked and his clothing rustled.  He sighed angrily and stood up, following Mom because he was pretty good at calming down people and children when he turned on his business face, and that pregnant woman and child would certainly need calming after my mom administered medical attention.

When they were out of earshot, I turned back to Ryan, who was staring at me like I was a monster.  “Yes, that is exactly what you think it was.  See, Ryan, here’s the thing my parents neglect to tell all of my dates: despite my being blind, I can See the future.  And, quite often, I See the future whenever perverts like you try to have their way with me like you did tonight.  Usually my visions deal with people dying and, by Seeing their deaths, I can save a lot of them.  However, if you don’t get lost now and never contact my parents about me again, if I ever See you die, I’m not going to tell anyone. And, believe me, all of the deaths I See are painful.  Like choking on delicious steak.  Or crumpling in a sedan as its run over by an eighteen-wheeler.  Or being crushed to death by a piece of concrete knocked loose from a demolished building. What are you waiting for?  Get lost.”

With that, Ryan ripped off his napkin and actually ran away from me.  Most of my dates who figured out this truth about me did just that.  And, oddly, despite their uniformly disgusting qualities, I always felt sad when they ran.  Because it just reinforced the fact that no one would love a blind seeress, no matter how beautiful or rich she may be.

I sighed, now upset with myself because  _that_ thought had shown up again.  This whole charade was to make sure I would never be alone, but I just knew there was no one out there for me, because who on Earth would a) believe that I actually Saw the future, or b) love me without pitying my blindness?

_Aargh, I’m just pissing myself off!!  I need to get out of here.  I need to not see my parents for a while._  I stood up, tossing my own napkin onto the table and one of the dozen twenties I had stuffed in my wallet onto the table for my waiter – just because I was damaged goods didn’t mean his service wasn’t impeccable – and stormed out to the car.  The valet had parked it pretty far back in the lot but I knew the sound of its contours, so I found it pretty fine.  And, because it was one of those that unlocked at both a number combo and the traditional wireless button, I quickly found myself back in the backseat, picked up my earplugs, and shoved them into my ear canals.

Immediate silence, beautiful and clear.

I leaned back into the faux leather carseat, closing my eyes.  The silky quiet soothed my tense muscles and relaxed my frazzled mind.  Tonight was just another in a long line of my parents’ mistakes, that’s all.  It was a long list, the string of dates I’d been forced into since I turned sixteen two years ago only a small fraction of the list.  And it all started when I’d been born.

_Hey, don’t say that!_

My eyes flew open.  A smile played with my lips.  That voice had been in my mind, but I had heard it quite a few times in the past few years.  Since the first vision of the man the voice belonged to, way back when I was nine, I’d Seen him perhaps a thousand times.  Those were peculiar visions, sometimes just flashes of him, sometimes just his voice filling the darkness.  Most of the time it had nothing to do with anything.  Just him.  But that first vision…

I smiled widely.  It would be tonight.  There had been no date, no identifiable piece to the vision that let me empirically know it was tonight, but I just knew.  That was the way of being a seeress.  Sometimes you just knew things and you couldn’t explain how you knew them – because it would just sound crazy.

And being crazy is not conducive to any kind of relationship.


	2. Chapter 2

Mom and Dad drove me home after they had called an ambulance for the pregnant woman and paid for our unfinished meal.  I could feel the disappointment and anger coming off of them in waterfalls.  I tried projecting just as much irritation.  No one said a word, even though Mom and Dad could have been shouting at each other while I had my earplugs in.  But they were just as angry at each other.

When the car stopped in our driveway, I was already stepping out of the car.  “Celina,” Dad said harshly, “you wait just a minute, young lady.”  I ignored him and threw open the front door.  We didn’t have pets – it was a hazard to me, my parents believed – so the door remained wide open.  I stomped into the kitchen and yanked a soda from the fridge (an orange Fanta, because my sodas were on the top shelf and that’s where I rummaged).  The door shut down the hallway while I snapped open the can and downed half of the fizzy beverage.  I gulped the other half while my parents hurried their way into the kitchen to yell at me.

The yelling began immediately.  “Celina, what the hell were you thinking?!?” Dad shouted at me.  “Ryan Seavorman is the Mayor of Chicago, and he would have been a perfect match for you!  Do you want to be single and alone for the rest of your life?”

I crushed my soda can against the counter.   _That’s odd.  He’s never asked me that before_.  “No, Father, I want to be a happily married old hag with five children and fifty grandchildren, sitting out on the porch in a rocking chair holding hands with my husband and enjoying the nice sunlight of the summer as they all frolic on the lawn,” I told him sarcastically.  “I also want to be able to  _see_  that sunlight, and the grass, and my children’s and grandchildren’s faces, but – oh, would you look at that!  I can’t seem to  _see_ , now, can I?  And he was  _not_  my perfect match.  A man who is twice my age and has a tendency to stick his hand up young girls’ underwear is _disgusting_ , not charming.”

“He did not do that to you, he said so.”

I whirled on him, throwing my hands up.  “Oh, so now you think I’m so incapable of ruling my own life that you are taking the word of some stranger as to what he did to me rather than my own?!?  Thanks, Dad.  Nice to see that you respect my opinions.”

“Your opinions are wrong.”

“My opinions are  _mine_ , which means they are the  _only_  ones that matter!  But do you ever ask me what I think of you guys attempting to foist me off onto old moneybags?  No, you just sit there drooling over how amazing the guy’s job is and how much cash he has!  I’m just a tool to you guys, aren’t I, because I’m such a pathetic daughter?  Oh, woe is me, I'm blind and can't take care of myself or do anything for myself despite the fact that I have proven that I am more than capable of being a productive member of society, but I'm blind, so I can't do anything for myself on principle, but at least I'm _pretty_ , because that means I get to be shoved over and forced into a marriage to the highest bidder like some misogynistic medieval oppressive tradition.  Lucky me!"

“Sweetheart,” Mom interjected, sounding hurt.  “We would never think any less of you than our daughter.”

Now it was my turn to be hurt.  “Thanks, Mom.  You know, you could’ve said, ‘We love you, Celina.  We would never think of you like that.’  But, no, you just make it seem like it’s your obligation not to ignore me completely.  Thanks.  Really like that.”  I sighed, disgusted, and brushed by them to the stairs.

“And just where do you think you’re going, young lady?” Dad yelled.  His voice shook the chandelier in the welcoming room, filling the house with tinkling.  I tried to ignore the confusing sound.  I threw my hand out and followed the wall to the banister, swinging onto the stairs and stomping my high-heeled way up to the second floor.

“I’m getting away from you two,” I snapped back.  “And, considering how I can’t drive and I can’t just up and leave because I was stuffed into this obnoxious dress and that you guys still have to punish me for reacting how anyone would to being treated like just a tool by their own parents, I’m going to my room!”  Feeling especially aggravated, I leaned over the railing – like they’ve told me not to do a thousand times – and smiled meanly.  “Oh, if that’s alright with you.  I forgot I have to ask your permission for everything.”  I scoffed, shoving myself away from the railing and down the hall to my room.  Like the angst-filled teen I was, I even slammed the door.  The house rattled even more, the chandelier sounding like a monkey was taking it for a swing, it was rattling so hard.

My room was dark.  I tended not to be in it except to sleep, so the lights had never once been turned on.  It was a smallish room, my seven-by-four bed taking up most of the space.  Flanking the headboard were two nightstands in a light-colored wood.  On the wall on the other side of the room, to the left of my bed as you walked in, was a pair of matching clothes chests, the same light-colored wood as the nightstands and both only as tall as my hips.  Just above those was a set of windows, as long as my bed and making up the rest of the wall to the ceiling.  They were the only things that let in light, and the mirrors that were the doors to my closet all along the back wall reflected that light.  Right now, the whole room was cast with a deliciously cool and calm white glow, as the moonlight of the full moon lit up my bed.

Angry and irritated and upset, I went over to the side of the bed lit up by the moon and just sat there.  Unbidden and ineffable, tears beaded my eyes.  I swiped them away, folding my arms over my chest.   _No, I’m not crying,_ I thought sharply _.  My parents don’t love me and I always knew that and they are just as big of assholes as those idiots they force me to date.  I knew this and I didn’t expect them to be any different – so why am I crying?!?_ I buried my face in my hands and flopped backward, cushioned by my uber-fluffy comforter. _And it’s good that I’m leaving right after a big fight.  That way they’ll really rethink the way they treated me.  I hope Mom cries and Dad spends a fortune with flyers and just trying to find me in general._

I sighed and just lay there, for hours.  My parents met my expectations when they didn’t try to come soothe me after their own fighting cooled off.  My tears dried up, so I sat back up and stared at the moon.  Or where I thought the moon was.  I knew it travelled across the sky, like the sun, but a common wonder of mine was at what direction?  And did it cut the sky evenly?  Did it block out stars as it moved – or did those move with it?  I’d seen the night sky in a couple of my visions, and I envied everyone their ability to always see something so beautiful.  But I’d never seen the moon except for just once in a vision.  It had been a full moon, like tonight’s was, and it was even more beautiful than the night sky alone.  My mind became absorbed by thoughts of the night sky, and I tried to remember the visions I’d seen them in, and actually started to see them on the insides of my eyelids.

Retrospectively, I realize I must have fallen asleep and dreamt that image of the night sky, because no way would I have a vision without feeling myself go numb first or of just something as pointless as a picture of the night sky.  But it must’ve have been just a light doze because, as soon as he entered my room, I was wide awake and heard his every moment.

It was weird, how I knew.  Usually, I can hear a person’s movements and visualize how they moved based on how the clothes they’re wearing sounded and how close the sound was to my ears.  I could also tell where a person was in a room if they weren’t moving because of two factors: the sound of their breath, and the fact that sound waves travel.  Even if they weren’t breathing, I was, and the sound of that bounced off the walls of the room I was in and came back to give me a fairly detailed image of the room.  It was kind of like echolocation, except sometimes I just knew how a room looked without the benefit of the sonar or a vision.  Maybe I had second sight of some sort beyond future Sight…

Anyway, it was weird how I knew the guy was there.  It was his breath, and wholly the sound of his breathing, that let me know he was there.  He held his breath while he entered the room – miraculously keeping the floorboards or the door from squeaking – and then held it until he could mirror my shallow breathing.  But it was coming from completely across the room, and it had a male tone to it, and it moved.  And I couldn’t hear any sound from him other than the mirrored breathing.

For some reason, I imagined him decked out in black, only his eyes peeking out.  Like a ninja.  Which was funny, because ninjas were Japanese in origin and so was this guy.

I waited until he was on my side of the room, by the mirrors, before I sleepily sat up and said, “Alright, you can cut the stealth.  I know you’re there.”

His breathing cut off, and I assumed that meant he froze, because I looked right at the spot he’d been at and I didn’t want to look stupid.  “Dude, I may be blind, but I still know when someone comes into my room.”

He was quiet.  Still no breathing.  I scowled, absently wondering how long he could hold his breath.  I waited a minute longer before I said, “You’d better start talking – and breathing – or I’ll scream bloody murder and you won’t have a chance to finish up your mission and take me away.  Who are you, anyway?”

At that, he sighed and leaned back against my mirrors.  I could tell that because the hinge that allowed it to roll on its track squeaked at its misuse.  “Fine,” he finally said, “but it seems like you already know.  How  _do_  you know, anyway?”  His voice was just as I’d heard it in my visions: aged, but mature, not I’m-in-a-nursing-home-ancient.  In fact, he sounded like he was a few years older than me, not a few decades.  He had that velvet edge to his voice most guys in their twenties had, that thing that said, “Oh, yeah, I am hot and I like women and they like me.”  And I already knew from actually Seeing him that he was maybe twenty-five.

I stood up, putting my hands on my hips.  I didn’t know much in the way of secret organizations, but weren’t they supposed to debrief guys about their targets?  “How much do you know about me?” I asked, moving towards him.  Or, rather, the closet he was covering up.

He moved out of the way.  Again, my only hint to this was his breath.  “…Your name is Celina Vanguardis,” he said reluctantly.  “You are nineteen, an only child.  Your parents are wealthy.  You were homeschooled and officially received your high school diploma two years ago.  You have a heightened sense of hearing.  And you have an ability that’s valuable to my outfit.”

I pulled open the closet and brushed my fingers along the clothes hanging in the space.  I had a specific organization method – dresses to the right, shawls and wraps in the middle, jackets to the left – and I recognized my clothes by the order I had them, as well as the fabrics that made them.  In the jacket section, I ran my fingers over about twenty sets of sleeves in varying makes and materials until I came to a woolen sleeve that was thicker than it should’ve been because of the lining of fake fur on the inside.  I knew that this jacket was black, which would be the perfect complement to my ruby-red dress.  I took it out and put it on, kicking off my heels for a pair of high-socks and boots as I asked, “Do you know what my ability is?  Or did they just tell you to come get me?”

He was quiet for a moment as I wrestled to slide my feet into the boots, fur on the inside and soft felt on the outside.  “I just came here to get you.”

“Huh.  So you don’t know anything about me.”

“I know the important details.”

I stomped my foot into the matching boot and looked up at him.  He was given full view of the milky blue casing over my irises that prevented me from seeing.  He was clever at hiding his shock, the only indicator of it a very quiet gasp of breath into his nose.  His face was probably perfectly clear.  “Speaking of outfit,” I continued now that he had had a look at one “important” detail about me, “what on earth is yours made of?  How come I can’t hear it?”  I reached out to poke his chest.  Surprisingly, he didn’t move away or deflect my exploring finger.  It met his chest, and a strange material that, I swear, felt like jellified velvet.  And, whereas any normal fabric would make a noise at being concaved like that, the material made absolutely no noise.

“It’s synthetic,” he said crisply.  “It won’t emit any kind of noise.  And it reflects light on command.”

 _Huh_.  “So, people normally can’t hear  _or_  see you?”  I returned to sticking my remaining foot in the other boot.

“Basically.”

Cool.  To be invisible and able to walk around without making any noise…  “I want one,” I decided as I stomped my foot into its boot.  “A suit like that.  Is that the only one in existence or does someone at your organization make them?”

“Why are you asking so many questions?” he hedged, abruptly apprehensive.  “And why are you getting dressed as if you are going out in the cold?”

I looked up at him, raising a questioning brow.  “Well, I’m not just going to let you knock me out and carry me over your shoulder like some Neanderthal.  And it’s October, so it’s pretty cold out.”

I really wished that I could see his face.  I would bet that he was startled to find out I wanted to go.  But his voice revealed none of that as he flatly said, “It isn’t that cold out.”

“Whatever.”  I scoffed and, properly suited up, I started to grab my things.  Like my purse and my wallet and my phone.  But the guy reached out and put his hand on mine when I grabbed my phone.

“Don’t,” he growled.  I’m sure he didn’t mean to sound threatening, just commanding.  “People can track you with your phone.  And if you take your stuff, it will be a red flag to the authorities.  Kidnappings don’t usually involve willing victims.”

“I’m supposed to be kidnapped, then?”  I put my phone back down and tried to put my purse and wallet as they had been before I took them up.  The tiny adjustments and straining to remember exactly how they’d been were good distractions: his hand had been unreasonably warm.  And his touching me gave me a little fluttery feeling in my stomach.

“It was supposed to seamless and easy.  But you were awake.”  There was something in his voice that I guess was confusion and irritation mixed together, but it was quiet.  He was an expert at hiding any emotions he had, that’s for sure.  “That’s fine,” he sighed suddenly, “it doesn’t matter where they are, as long as they aren’t with you.  We need to leave.”  And he turned and started towards the door, leaving me to clomp-clomp-clomp as I caught up to him.

He rounded on me.  I don’t know how I knew, I just stopped and felt a little upset because he was irritated with me.  “Would you be quiet?” he hissed.  “We can’t exactly get you out of here if you wake up your parents.”

I scowled right back at him.  “I would,” I whispered back, “except you were going to go off without me.  If you walk at a pace I can keep up with, I won’t stomp.  Alright?”

He didn’t reply, not even made a noncommittal grunt.  He just popped open my door and growled, “After you.”

Irritation.  I felt irritation.

I sighed and, as quietly as I could without the magical anti-sound, anti-sight cloth, crept to the stairs and down them.  My whatever-he-was followed me pretty close.  My pace was probably way too slow for him, but you know what I thought to that?   _Sucks to be you_!  When we reached the bottom of the stairs, I headed towards the front door, assuming he had a car or some such getaway vehicle.  He grabbed me by my collar, practically choking me, and when I rounded on him, he just muttered, “Back door,” as explanation.  I scowled and prowled after him.

He unlocked the door as quietly as he could manage, which actually made it pretty damn quiet, and then slipped outside.  I followed after him and closed the door, since it would be really weird if I was to be kidnapped and the kidnappers left a very obvious trail of where they had taken me.  I thought it would be even weirder if I left the door unlocked but, when I reached for the key, the guy knocked my hand away.  “Leave it.  There isn’t a lot of time.”  To emphasize this, he took my wrist and led me off of the back porch towards the woods.

Our property sat on the edge of a large park.  It was the perfect thing to get lost in, maybe even go camping in.  Definitely would hide our trail because lots of people visited it and there were footprints just everywhere.  I was probably being led to a clearing where a helicopter or something would come down and pick us up.  If I wasn’t, I was strong and my nails were long and polished to a smooth ovular perfection.  I could scratch him if he tried anything and shove him off and run away.  Not that I could outrun him or exactly knew my way around the park, but I could get away.  Maybe climb a tree or something, if it came to that.

While I made my possible escape plans, the guy dropped my hand.  He remained at my pace, though, probably thinking I would be rather klutzy now that I was out of extremely familiar territory.  Or maybe it was because he didn’t want to lose the valuable asset he was in charge of, and he would if he hurried up to his normal almost-running pace.  Whatever the case, he was walking slow and was just ahead of me and I heard him pushing branches out of my way every few seconds.  That started to get on my nerves, too.

“You know,” I said after a few minutes of trudging, “I’m blind, but that doesn’t mean I need constant help.  I can hear you pushing those branches out of my way.  I’m not an invalid, you know, Natsume.”

He froze and whipped around faster than I could’ve mimicked a dog yipping.  His hand found its way to the base of my throat, shoving me back until I was pinned up against a tree.  He wasn’t exactly  _choking_  me, but I felt threatened enough to be afraid.  Also, his hands were very warm.  Steamy-shower-on-frozen-toes warm.  He had to have a fever or something.  “How do you know my name?” he asked haltingly, his voice very low and vibrating in his throat.  Actually, he sounded like he was purring – but threateningly.

I held perfectly still, which I found strange: why do people when they’re threatened fall perfectly still?  It certainly didn’t help the people in Jurassic Park.  Maybe the fear just made it impossible to move?  But I wasn’t afraid.  I mean, sure, I was a little afraid that he would choke me out, but I was more confused about how he didn’t know how I knew his name.  “…You really don’t know what my ability is?” I murmured.

“No.  I’m not the one who trains the new recruits, so I don’t really care.  But you knowing my name is suspicious.  So explain.  Were you contacted by someone else?  And how did you even know I was going to be there, for that matter?  Start talking!”

 _Wow_.  I’d never felt depressed before, but the drop in emotion to amazingly sad and lonely must have been it.  I had known this guy would take me away from my family for half of my life.  I’d had glimpses of awesome things happening to the both us, just heard his voice, seen his smile, on more than a hundred different occasions.  I basically idolized him.  And he wasn’t even concerned enough to ask what my ability was?  I felt myself wilt, my shoulders dropping, my face dropping, even my heart.  “I See the future,” I told him in a monotone.  “I Saw you when I was nine.  Saw you telling me what your name was.  But maybe I was wrong.”

Natsume released me and inhaled sharply.  “You’re a seeress?” he demanded.  Something in his tone – anger and confusion and immediate distrust – made me irritated again.  So much irritation tonight!

“Is that a problem?” I snapped.

“What kind?  Do you See visions from touching someone?”

“No, they creep up on me at random times.  It doesn’t have to be when someone is touching me.  God, you really didn’t even bother to ask anything about me other than what you were given, did you?  Why are you even on my case?  You seem completely and totally incompetent to me.”

“Hey, don’t say that!”

My heart fluttered in my chest.   _And there’s one of the hundreds I’ve seen come to reality_.  “Why not?”

He sighed.  He paced around for a moment.  He stopped, sighed again, and put a hand on my shoulder.  It had cooled off since the last time he touched me, back to the warmness of someone who had just run a bit.  “Look, I’m a private person.  I like my past to remain  _my_  past.  So I tend not to like seers of any kind.  And you’re right, I should’ve asked more about the case, but I’m good at my job.  I get in, grab the person, and get out.  I usually don’t...”  He pressed his mouth into a line, looking at me hard and pointedly.  “I usually don’t have to ever  _talk_  to anyone.  So I just have to know the details that will let me find them and that’s it.”  He stepped back.  His hands flexed and relaxed nervously.  “…Sorry if I hurt your neck.”

My hand went up to my neck to check for any injuries that would merit an apology.  There wasn’t anything, just a fading warmth from his over-heated hand.  “You didn’t have to apologize.  I’m alright.  You didn’t hurt me or anything.”

“That’s good.”  He sounded relieved.

“Wouldn’t you have known if you hurt me?” I asked, puzzled.  “I mean, you should know your own strength.  And you weren’t _trying_ to choke me – right?”

He turned away, which seemed to me a little bit sheepish.  “I do and I wasn’t.  But… My ability is pretty erratic.  Pretty strong when I get pissed or irritated.  And I was pretty much at the point just now where being around me was dangerous.  Hence the apology.”  With that, he continued leading me through the forest.

I caught back up to the distance behind I had been at before and, assuming he didn’t want to talk about either of our powers anymore, pointed out, “You didn’t answer my question.”

“Which one?” he muttered under his breath.

“What’s your name?”

“I thought you already knew.”

“I’m blind, so I can’t exactly tell if you are the dude I saw or you just happen to sound like him.  Name, please.”

He sighed.  There was a pause where I’m pretty sure he turned and shot a glare at me, but maybe he was just trying to find loopholes in my excuse.  “I’m Natsume Hyuuga,” he finally said in a defeated sigh.

_And there’s number two._

With that, I fell silent and focused on following him deeper into the forest.  We were quiet for about half an hour before he stopped suddenly.  “I have to make a quick call,” he announced, taking me by my elbow and unceremoniously depositing me on a fallen tree.  While I fidgeted and made myself comfortable, he walked a short distance away.  His voice wasn’t hidden behind anything, which made me think we were in a small clearing, but there were a bunch of other noises in the area, so I couldn’t really tell.  Overly-loud bird calls and crickets made it hard to even tell how long my log was.  It seemed to me like nature was trying to make it impossible to know where I was.

After a brief moment of muttering to himself and pausing like he was in an actual conversation, Natsume came back.  “We have about ten more minutes of walking to do before we get to the LZ,” he announced.  “Come on, they are going to land as soon as we get there.”

“Hang on,” I complained, putting my hands on the log and forcing myself up slowly.  “I just need a second to get my balance.”  I stood up and tossed my arms out, trying to find the ground and the trees around us amidst all the noise.

“What’s up?  Are you dehydrated or something?”

“No…  There’s a lot of sound going on.  Can’t you hear all the birds and crickets?  There have to be a hundred in the five-foot radius around us!  It’s making it impossible to tell where I’m at in space.”

“Huh.  So that’s how you see, is it?  You listen to your surroundings?”

“Yup.  I’m like a bat.”  The sound of the ground came out of the cacophony, but only enough to tell the next few steps ahead of me.  “This is weird.  But I think I can follow you if we go a bit slower.”

“We can’t go any slower.”

“Then…”  There was only one other option, and I didn’t like it.  “Goddamn it, you’re going to have to lead me around like a seeing-eye dog.”  I sighed heavily and took a step towards him, reaching out a hand for his.

And immediately lost all of my balance as my legs became painfully numb.

I had just enough time to gasp and whimper his name before the vision took me over.

The darkness didn’t last as long as it should have, tossing me straight into the vision.  This was one of the ones where I was myself, except I could see, and I was following behind Natsume into a pretty big clearing.  Certainly big enough to hold the helicopter that should have been there.

“Huh,” vision-Natsume grumbled.  “The bird should be here… These are the coordinates for the LZ.”

“Maybe we’re early?” I suggested.

“Nah, I said ten minutes, they said they would be here as soon as we got here, we should at least hear it by now…”  He trailed off, staring at something behind me.  I heard some rustling going on behind us and, with my vision-sight, I could see that the bushes all around the clearing were shaking.  And then people dressed in camouflage and WWII gas masks popped up and starting shooting at us.

Natsume shoved me to the ground, but in doing so put himself right in the path of a random bullet.  It blasted out of his stomach.  The shock the pain was inducing made him stand still.  As I watched and listened, dozens of rounds bored through his bones and flesh for a solid minute.  Or, at least, it felt that long.  When the clearing was quiet again, he collapsed on the ground next to me.  Stupidly, I reached over, whispering in horror, “Natsume, are you alright?”  Then I gasped when my hand touched blood.  I knew he had been shot.  I knew he’d been shot  _a lot_.  I knew he was dead.

Someone laughed from the side of the clearing closest to me.  The tenor melody of the voice instantly set me on edge with how soothing it sounded.  I turned towards the source, watched one of the soldiers take off his mask.  He was as white-tan as any normal American, with brown hair that stuck out at all angles.  His eyes were a calming shade of midnight blue – or would have been, if he hadn’t just laughed at the fact that Natsume had been killed.  “Perfect,” he said, his voice sounding honey-sweet.  He didn’t look older than me, and his voice reflected that.  “Hyuuga is dead and the new seeress doesn’t have a scratch on her.  Exactly like the boss ordered.”

I stiffened when he so casually mentioned Natsume’s death.  “Who the hell are you?” I demanded.

“Me?  I’m just Leo.  But if you’re talking about this group, then we’re the good guys, of the Z Corporation.”

The vision abruptly switched to bird’s-eye-view until I could even see my house.  Because of that, I knew exactly where we were.  The vision then scrolled over to a clearing that looked just a bit farther from our spot than the ambushed one and showed me a different image: one of those Army helicopters without side doors taking off with three people inside.  I recognized my red dress and Natsume because of his black ninja suit and the bronze skin of his face.  The third person was a man who looked to be older than Natsume by a few years, blonde, his hair down to his shoulders.  He came off, even in this far-off view, as a guy who couldn’t be serious if his life depended on it, always making jokes and underestimating everything.  One of those people that was a perpetual optimist.

And then I was back in reality, Natsume’s arms around me and shaking me gently and his voice coming from the space above me: “Celina, what’s wrong?  What happened?  Did you just have a vision?  What’s wrong?”

This seemed a little surreal.  I reached up and laid my hand against his cheek, which wasn’t protected by his ninja garb and was soft and as warm as the rest of him.  He went as still as a rock at my touch.  Which meant it was uninvited.  “I’m fine,” I told him quietly, looking at the spot where his voice had been coming from above me.  “Yeah, I had a vision.  Were you just…freaking out over me?”

“What did you See?” he demanded stiffly, again hedging my question.  Seemed to me like he became more concerned with important stuff whenever he became uncomfortable.  Classic escapist methods.

The surreal moment passed, replaced immediately by fear and anxiety.  I sat straight up, reaching out blindly for something to hold onto.  Natsume’s hand somehow became my stress ball.  I squeezed his fingers together.  “The landing zone is a trap.  There’s an ambush set up around it.  We need to go to a different clearing, to the west-southwest of here.  It’s just a few minutes more of a walk and the helicopter will be there.”

“What?”  Natsume put his free hand on my shoulder.  “Celina, your vision just lied to you.  The LZ is clear, I just talked to my mission director.  You can’t fake his voice, and he’s in the actual bird.”

Goddammit, why wouldn’t he listen to me?  I pulled out the biggest details, praying he cared about his life.  “You were shot to death in that ambush.  There were, like, twenty guys and they shot you for a full minute after you shoved me down to save me and they had orders to do that, to kill you and keep me alive.”

“Celina, I’ve dealt with death threats before.  Even if the ambush is there, I can handle it.”

_URGH!!!  Your stupid fear of seers is making you unable to see the danger.  God, what else is there?  That guy said he was in the “Z Corporation.”  Would that mean something to Natsume?_

“There was a guy named Leo,” I blurted.  Natsume went still again.  I could feel that this was interesting news to him.  “He laughed when you were dead and said that he met the boss’ expectations perfectly and I asked who he was and he said he was in the Z Corporation.”

Natsume was quiet.  I think that’s what I needed to say to convince him I had seen the truth.  “How accurate are your visions?” he asked quietly a moment later.

“One hundred percent.”

“Impossible,” he replied instantly.

Excuse _you,_ I thought, offended _._  “Completely possible!”

“No seer is utterly flawless.”

“I am.  I See deaths and I can always somehow avert them by the sheer fact that I’ve Seen them.  This one had your death.  And it came on much faster than normal; I usually have time to hold still if I’m walking or something, but I just went into full vision-mode immediately.  I think that means that it was really, really important for me to See and pay attention to.  Maybe I’ll be killed, too, if you let those guys get me.”

At that, Natsume grunted, like he’d been about to argue more but my words made him suddenly see my side and he hadn’t liked that he’d been on the wrong one.  Then he sighed.  “You Saw where we were supposed to go?”

“Yeah, about fifteen minutes west-southwest of here.  I swear.”

“There’s a clearing there?”

“Yeah.  And the helicopter will be there, I Saw us being flown out with a weird blonde guy who seemed older than us but gave off a friendly not-serious air.”

Natsume sighed again, even more deeply.  “Yup,” he muttered, “that’s my boss.”  He sighed a third time and then just stared at me for a minute.  The entire time, I was growing more and more aware of the fact that I was still holding his hand and, while that was really embarrassing, he seemed to have no intentions of letting go anytime soon.  Finally, he said, “Alright, alright, let’s go then.  I can see this is really upsetting you – but if our bird isn’t there, I’m going to make recruit training absolute hell for you.  Got it?”

“It will be,” I promised him.  Then I squeezed his hand, trying to remind him that I needed it back before I died of embarrassment.

He didn’t notice.  He sat back, still holding my hand, and was mumbling to himself about how he should probably call one more time to be absolutely sure.  And then, as if he was the seer here instead of me, interference crackled over what sounded like his earpiece.

“God!  What the hell, Max, are you trying to make me deaf?!?” Natsume shouted at the interference, turning away from me so my voice, if I spoke, wouldn’t pick up as much.

“Sorry!” a high-pitched tenor chirped through the crackling.  “Our signal’s been blocked and the interference you’re hearing is the best we can do at breaking through it.”

“Your signal’s been blocked?”

“Yeah.  Z got wind of the mission and they have an ambush set up at the LZ.  There’s another clearing big enough for the bird a few minutes away from the other one, though.  You guys almost to the first?”

“About ten minutes away,” Natsume replied.  I noticed him looking at me and gave him my best “I told you so” stare.

“Good!  It’ll be just about a fifteen-minute walk, then.  How’s Celina?”

“She’s awake.”

“Really?”

“Yup.  Say ‘hi,’ Celina.”

“Hi, Celina,” I said obediently.

“Huh,” the tenor voice grunted.  “Weird.”  Someone chattered close by to the other end of the call, but not close enough for us to hear what they said.  “Crap.  We’re almost out of time for our transmission, so Natsume, be very careful.  Celina is an  _extremely_  valuable asset for us and if Z gets her then we’re all-”  The call cut off with an excruciating pop of static that made Natsume grunt in pain and made me yelp.

Once our ears readjusted to normal sounds, Natsume sighed and looked at me again.  “I guess he was about to say ‘screwed.’”

“I guess my vision was right,” I retorted.

“So it seems,” he replied.  “But I couldn’t exactly trust what you said.  You’re a seeress I have just met and you just Saw my death in a place a guy I trusted told me was safe.  I’m sorry I have trust issues.”  He finally seemed to realize how long he’d been holding my hand and quickly let go.  “Sorry,” he hissed again, quickly climbing to his feet.

I pulled my hand back, rubbing my fingers against my palm.   _His skin is_ really _warm_ , I observed as the warmth faded from my hand.  Then I stood up, while Natsume asked, “So, which way is the new LZ?”

“West-southwest,” I repeated, dusting mud and grass from my dress.  I actually liked that dress, despite what I’d been made to wear it for.

“Sure, but which way is that?”

I scoffed, squinting in his direction suspiciously.  “Are you  _sure_  you are good at this job?”

“Stop doubting me!  I will leave you out here!”

And I didn’t doubt that.  I sighed, remembering my vision.  We’d gone basically straight since we left my house.  “Well, if the clearing is dead ahead, then we’ll want to go to the left.”

“By how much?”

“About forty-seven degrees.”  I pointed, indicating approximately which direction we should go.

He sighed.  “A blind seeress,” I heard him mutter.  “How did I get stuck with such luck?”  But then he shook himself back to professionalism and took off.

“Hey, wait!” I called after him.  “You forgot to help me!”

So he came back and took my hand again.  There was absolutely nothing embarrassing about it this time.  He was just showing me around.  But that heat…

Just as everyone predicted, we got to the clearing within about fifteen minutes.  The helicopter dropped soon after we got there and after Natsume had gone through the whole, “I can’t believe I trusted a seer about their vision, I told you it wouldn’t be here” shpeal.  To which I just coolly and calmly shouted at him, “I told you so!  I so totally told you so!  That’s what you get for doubting my visions!”

After I shouted, someone grabbed my arm and basically lifted me into the bird.  A pair of headphones was jammed onto my head, silencing the annoying chopper blades.  “Hello, Celina,” said the high-pitched tenor voice through the headphones.  I recognized as belonging to the blonde man I'd Seen in the helicopter.  “My name is Maximillion.  Most people call me ‘Max,’ though.  I’m the leader of the organization that Natsume is a part of and that you have willingly allowed yourself to be inducted into.  Everyone in it has abilities that normal people don’t.  Some of them can See the future, like you do.  We all strive to make the world a safe place, both for people like us and the normal people, too.  And, I’m sorry, but it would be so much easier to explain things once we got back.  So you should be going to sleep now.”

With that, I felt something like a blanket being pulled over my consciousness.  I fell quickly asleep.  And just from that, I decided Max’s ability had something to do with controlling people with his voice.  


End file.
